church dedications, birthdays, & other weekend things.

I woke up at 6:00 this morning, after a night of disturbed sleep.  The sun was shining through grey clouds and although I was really tired, I couldn’t get myself back to sleep again.  That’s what happens when your daily routine starts at 6 am I suppose.

Though we’ve been without internet here in Bothas Hill for the past ten days….. ta-da!  Life goes on.  The break from contact with the outside world was refreshing at first, then tiresome when I turned 23 and couldn’t talk to anyone at home for the most part, but then it was liberating to be able to find other ways to spend our time.  Work keeps me busy and though homesick, I was able to put my energy into teaching, reviewing for vocabulary tests with Grade 6 and 7, and swinging young boys around in circles after helping with homework at St. Theresa’s three afternoons a week.

The four of us spent Valentine’s Day in the valley at the dedication ceremony and Mass for a newly-built church at St. Helen’s Parish, one of the outposts of the Augustinian church in Kloof.  We left the house at 9 am and didn’t get home until 3:00 that afternoon, but the ceremony itself was something that was really amazing to see, as these things don’t happen very often at all.  The mass was a regular Zulu mass, but the words to all the songs sung throughout were printed in booklets, so Mary-Kate, Becca, and I made a good attempt to sing along which helped move time along more quickly.  Following the Mass, the four walls of the church were blessed and a relic of St. Helen was placed under the altar.  The archbishop of Durban was in attendance, and he and some other members of the church and community were thanked in a traditional Zulu ceremony, involving lots of excited yelling from the women in the congregation, the gift of livestock and beautiful blankets, and long speeches lauding each person’s contribution to the finished product.  The inkosi or chief of the area was at Mass with his entourage as well, and it was really fascinating to see him and hear what he had to say about the dedication.

I can now count seeing live sheep during Mass off my bucket list.  One was so nervous it even pooped on the church’s nice new carpet!

The choir in traditional Zulu dress-- mostly black with really colorful beading

The archbishop receiving his gifts: a headpiece, matching staff, and mink blanket from a woman on the parish council at St. Helen's

I wrote last time about going to see the Durban Sharks play some rugby, and the match was a lot of fun.  We had some food and drinks beforehand, then made our way into the stadium just before the rain began.  The Sharks lost (in a pretty dismal end to an exciting second half), but I think we all really enjoyed being there to see a game—and I hope I get to some more of the Super 14 series before too long!

Here's the walkway up to our seats, and you can see the arch of Moses Madiba Stadium (built for the World Cup) in the background 

Our whole community at the game... Becca, me, Mary-Kate, and Meg

I had a very nice birthday; though I was far from home and missing contact with my friends and family very much, I was completely showered with kindness through letters and parcels that have been coming to 8 Warwickshire Crescent in a steady stream since the 17^th.  Thank you so much for your thoughtfulness—even if the cookies did arrive in crumbles, or the cards got redirected and didn’t arrive until today, I feel very touched by all the attention.

Evidence of my recent monopoly of the South African postal service

We celebrated here on the 16^th, as it was Fat Tuesday.  With my actual birthday falling on Ash Wednesday there wasn’t really much room for celebration that day.  The community of four Augustinian nuns who live next door to us were eager to have us round for dinner, so we braved torrential downpour and some pretty spectacular African lightning and feasted on pancakes, carrot cake, and I was given a dozen orange roses in celebration.  My housemates didn’t disappoint either— Meg treated me to a scavenger hunt on the morning of my birthday, I got some delicious Cadbury’s chocolate from Becca, and an amazing fish-and-chips dinner from Mary-Kate.

Last Saturday, we threw a braai which actually ended up being more of an American barbeque, and had some friends around for drinks and food.  The rain held off and we had a really nice time, as evidenced by an Australia-shaped bruise on my upper arm, texts the next day from our South African friends, and the mountains of bottles and cans we dumped at the recycling center last Sunday.  When you climb up on the roof of a poolhouse to be serenaded with “Happy Birthday” from friends you’ve only known two short months, life is really good.

Smiling faces having a good time at the braai...

... and my Australia-shaped bruise, one week later.  The kids at St. Leo's love it.

On a more somber note, my faithful trusty iPod decided to conk out on me this week.  I’ve had the thing for three years without a problem, so I was pretty sure that I’d see it fail some time during my year here, but not so soon!  Hopefully with the arrival of some American visitors in March, I can get it home and fixed and back again without much issue.  Listening to NPR podcasts on Sundays had become part of my weekend routine, and I’m really missing them already.

This weekend has been much more low-key so far, thank goodness.  This morning, we made good use of our early rising and took a trip to the Shongweni Farmers’ Market, where we indulged in lattes and breakfast sandwiches.  We bought hummus from an Israeli food stall, and also some fresh basil and oregano plants, which Becca planted outside our cottage this morning.  At just over a dollar for each one, we really got a bargain.  We then went to Stations of the Cross at Our Lady of Mercy which was nice.  Stations never fails to remind me of my days at St. Ignatius School, where we’d pray them every Friday during Lent, reading out of grey, red, and black booklets.

The sky is very overcast today, but I’m happy to get a break from the oppressive heat of the South African summer.  We have plans to have a community retreat day tomorrow at the Krantzkloof Nature Reserve, just down the road.  There are rumors of a waterfall there, but with or without it, it’ll be a nice day of reflection and relaxation before March arrives.

incommunicado...

Hi all,
Just a quick entry to let you know that due to a massive African thunderstorm last week, we've been without phone and internet for seven days now.  I'm alive & well, missing home and all of you very much, but thank you so much to everyone who wished me well on my birthday, both near and far.
I'm thinking of you all every day and hoping that all is well on the other side.  Hopefully we'll be back in the modern world soon!

one month (and one day) in.

There's thunder brewing outside, much to my relief.  A lot of people I've met told me that February was the worst weather month, much like at home, though the horrendous conditions here have little to do with winter storms and piles of snow.  I haven't been so sweaty and hot in a long time.
I also haven't celebrated Valentine's Day in such a big way since cherry-flavored, heart-shaped lollipops and candy hearts and cartoon valentines in 8th grade.  Today, being the last day of school before Valentine's Day on Sunday, the students at St. Leo's donned their red and white clothes and we spent the day listening to music, making Valentine cards, and watching performances by some of the children.

Some of the valentines we received today, for your viewing pleasure:

"Roses are red, violets are blue, sugar is sweet and so are you!" -- we've got a bit of a Parrot Syndrome going on.  We wrote this poem on the board and everybody just copied it into their cards.

"To Sinead, Becky, and Mary-- happy valentine's day and I want to say you rock and you are good girls"

I like this one... it's to me and from me!

Teaching hasn't been easy in the past two weeks, because I've come to the perhaps obvious realization that I'm not here in South Africa on vacation.  The famous "honeymoon period" of moving to a new place has come to an end, and I'm not longer enamored of our little white car with the worst engine in the world on the hills, or excited to be sweating while everyone at home suffers a winter blizzard.  The kids at St. Leo's are still adorable on good days, but when I'm trying to ask for words that begin with the letter B and I hear apple or airplane, my frustration sometimes gets the best of me.
What has been very nice about settling in is the fact that my routine is more set in place-- I've finally begun to find things to do daily that make my time productive and happy.  I feel more at ease with our South African friends, which makes hangouts on weekends much less stressful.  I'm happy to say that I've started some relationships with a lot of the teachers at St. Leo's, and we've had really good conversations before school starts in the morning, or during car rides back to Hillcrest from the valley.  Ayanda, my friend who teaches computers and maintains the finances at St. Leo's, has been a really great person to get to know-- she's really good with the kids and because she's our age, it's been really nice to get a young Zulu person's perspective on life.

That being said, I am really thankful to see another Friday arrive.  This week was very exhausting-- I think the realization that my life is now all about being a teacher here in South Africa made me reflect a lot during the week.  Though community life continues to go well, we've also been thinking hard about how to feel a kinship with the Zulu people we serve.  Because our weekends so far have been spent with white people from Kloof parish, going back to the valley on Mondays is sometimes very hard to deal with.  But now that the antidote to this somewhat schizophrenic existence has been suggested, I'm hopeful about continuing to strengthen relationships with both our Kloof friends and Zulu friends as well.

Though we're tired from our first week of "real life" here in South Africa, we've got lots of exciting plans for the weekend.
This evening, we've decided to bring the good ol' tradition of Happy Hour to Bothas Hill, and the Augustinians as well as their American visitors have been invited to our cottage for snacks and drinks.  Tomorrow, my roommates and I plan on visiting the Shongweni Farmers' Market  in the early morning-- and perhaps indulge in breakfast there.  Then in the afternoon, we have plans with our friends from Kloof to drive to Durban for a braai (barbeque) and drinks before the opening game of the Durban Sharks rugby season-- in a series known as the Super 14.  They'll be playing the Chiefs (from New Zealand) and I could not be happier to finally get to see a rugby game here, something I've been looking forward to for months.  This all happening the weekend before my 23rd birthday is the icing on the cake!
And finally, on Sunday, the four of us will be joining the Augustinian friars for the dedication of St. Helen's Church, a brand new church just built for a Zulu community not too far from here.

I hope the temperature cools down by then, but for now, I'll leave you East Coast-ers to the winter storms... and cool myself off with a dip in the pool.

Usale kahle

overheard in south africa.

On Five FM, a super aggravating national radio station:

DJ 1: I mean, polygamy could just be a cultural thing, you know?
DJ 2: Yeah... just look at Jay-Z.  He's a polygamist and he's famous!
Volunteer 1: Did he just say Jay-Z is a polygamist?
Volunteer 2: Yeah, I think that just happened.
Volunteer 1: Jay-Z... hmmm... wait.... JZ...
Volunteer 2: OH!  Jacob Zuma!  I get it.

home is never too far away.

jazz in the afternoon.

After dropping Meg home from work on Friday, Maryann Carpenter (who runs Hillcrest AIDS Respite Center) stopped by to mention the Rainbow Restaurant, a venue in Pinetown (about 20 minutes' drive from here) that was rumored to have live jazz on Sunday afternoons. We were intrigued.

And so, after sleeping in late-- and by late, I mean until about 9:00-- we packed into our car, picked up Ruthie (Maryann and Steven's daughter), and drove to Pinetown to see what the Rainbow Restaurant had to offer us.

We took the exit into Pinetown, and my mind immediately flashed to all the dangerous scenarios that the AV staff had warned us about during orientation.  We were suddenly driving through an area where shops were boarded up, garbage littered the street-- yet behind the somewhat grimy facade, people moved here and there, doing their Sunday business at a large outdoor market, selling wares and buying goods for the week ahead.  Women with large parcels balanced on their heads always serve as a reminder of the exotic nature of my new home in South Africa, but as we drove down the busy street, it dawned on me that these women were merely making efficient use of their hands.  Instead of being weighed down by shopping bags, they could now lead their children and grandchildren by the hand without fear of losing them in the crowds.

We found a parking spot after searching for the Rainbow for a few minutes.  As we drove up and down the street, searching for number 23, I felt a bit uneasy that we had come; we were heavily in the minority and though I spend five days a week as one of the only white people in Molweni, I felt very strange in this new place with no idea what to expect.  But we parked the car nonetheless, made our way to the other side of a busy main road, and through the gates to the restaurant.  As we approached the entrance, a couple of guys hanging around outside the door greeted us with friendly smiles which put me at ease.  We each paid our R50 to get in, and made our way inside.

The air was heavy with the smell of food, alcohol, and the buzz of bodies-- sweat mingling with excitement and satiated appetites all around.  It was dim inside; the curtains had been drawn in an effort to keep out the heat of January's last day.  All around, people laughed, talked, and paid no heed as four white American girls inched their way around the perimeter of the crowded space in search of a table.

After finding a spot to the right of the stage, we ordered some drinks and waited for the music to begin.  On the other side of our booth, six men in impeccable button-down shirts laughed and chatted, bobbing their heads to the jazz record filling the silence prior to the first set.  I don't know what it is that sets musicians apart from their earthly counterparts, but I knew just by looking at them that they were it.  And sure enough, after a brief announcement from the proprietor, they ambled onto the stage and a dim hush overtook the waiting audience.

And then... jazz happened.

I'm trying so hard to describe in words the sounds, smells, tastes, and feelings of the three hours we spent at the Rainbow on Sunday afternoon, but I'm not sure I can do it justice.  Though I've struggled a lot over the past few weeks with a very schizophrenic identity as a white American female volunteer, living and working here in South Africa, much of my confusion and anxiety melted away to the tune of a couple of saxophones, keyboards, drums, bass, and guitar.  I felt that I'd been there before, yet I was excited to have discovered such a place amid the chaos of my new life.
With cold cider in my glass, warm jazz melting into the walls around me, and surrounded by faces that all seemed very familiar, I felt more comfortable than I have since arriving here in South Africa almost three weeks ago.  The Rainbow seemed like an oasis in an unpredictable, confusing place-- and I was happy to relax there and drink in every last drop.